David buries his wife after she loses her fight against cancer. He is nearly 50, and their children are now grown up, so he breaks the news that he is going to undertake that which he wanted to do for as long as he could remember — a sex change. He had struggled with his transsexuality all his life, but his love for his wife and respect for her meant he just played the hand that he had been dealt, up to now, that is.

Meanwhile, in the USA, grizzled Police Chief John Collingwood comes to near breaking point. Stressed from his job, his grief over his dead wife, and the despair of near alcoholism, he embarks on a trip to the UK with his brother to seek out his family tree.

Two very different people find a very different future, they also find each other...

but will it work?

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Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

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The Legal Stuff: A Girl Can But Dream  © 2006,2009,2010 Tanya Allan
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
Please enjoy.
Tanya
 
 

 
 
 
Chapter 3
 
 
Dee
 
I jumped, as I was miles away. I looked up and saw this very large man looking at me from over my garden gate. He smiled, looking sheepishly at me.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I didn’t mean to startle you. But we are kinda in a fix, so could do with a little help,” he said.

I saved my work, shutting the lid of my laptop. I stood up and walked towards the gate. He was a very tall, powerfully built man, who could be anything from forty-five to fifty-five, dressed in a red and white checked shirt and blue jeans. I had to smile when I saw the cowboy boots. He had very short sandy hair that was mostly grey now. His deeply tanned face was almost leathery with the time he had spent outdoors in the sun, which was why it was so difficult to estimate his age. He had the most wonderful grey eyes, with laughter lines around them. He was very rugged looking, but he had ever such a gentle voice.

“Oh yes, what seems to be the problem?” I said, realising that I sounded very English and proper.

“Howdy Ma’am. My name is John Collingwood, and that’s my brother, Edward, down there, about to get run over,” he said, smiling. “We arrived from Arizona this morning, and we are looking for Hutchings Farm. Can you help us?”

“Why don’t you come in, and do try to get your brother off the road?” I asked, and opened the gate. “You really should tell him that it isn’t a good idea to play with the motor cars like that.”

John laughed, turning and shouting for his brother. He stepped through the gate and came into the garden.

“Thank you, Ma’am, I appreciate this,” he said. He stood looking at the garden for a few moments, as we waited for his brother.

Edward was puffing when he arrived. He was completely different to John. He was shorter, overweight and pasty faced, as if he had spent all his time in an office. He looked very unfit. He also had an almost greasy smile, which gave the impression that he was always trying to sell me something.

“You have a beautiful garden, Ma’am. My wife would have adored this place,” John said.

“Would have?” I said.

“Yeah, she died a year ago. Cancer,” he said, but the hurt was ever pervasive through his eyes.

I smiled, but with little humour.

“I’ve been there. I’m alone now too. Cancer, eighteen months ago,” I said. What was I doing? Here was I opening up my darkest miseries to a total stranger.

He turned and looked at me. I saw reflected in his eyes the pain that I felt. He smiled and I smiled back.

“Hey guys. Hutchings Farm?” said Edward.

John looked annoyed for the briefest moment, but then his eyes softened again.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Ma’am, I forgot for a moment,” he said.

“My name is Deborah, but all my friends call me Dee,” I said.

John smiled and his straight white teeth gleamed. His face was transformed by the smile, but I guessed that he hadn’t smiled very much recently.

“Hi, Dee, it’s a pleasure,” he said, smiling again. The way he said it was such that I believed that he felt it really was a pleasure. He held out his large hand, so I placed my smaller hand in his, and we shook. He had warm, calloused hands, but he was gentle, not crushing. I liked him immediately.

Edward was too busy looking at the map, so I invited them to sit down.

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked.

“No thanks,” said Ed.

“That would be real nice, Dee,” John said and I laughed.

“Let’s see the map, first,” I said, peering at it. I immediately saw their problem.

“This map is no good. It’s too recent,” I announced. “Hutchings farm is no more, as it was split up before the last war. Hutchings House is up the lane over there, and Hutchings Yard is the old converted farm buildings and barns. There are four separate homes there now, mostly holiday homes. The farmland is now all part of Knowle Farm, but some of it is now the campsite.

“This cottage is the old farm hands’ cottages converted into one four bedroom house, with garage. I’ve only been here a few months. I came here after, well, to get away from memories.

“There is another small apartment above the garage. When my children come to stay there is plenty of room. My daughter Sarah and her husband and baby, Amy, usually go into the flat, as Amy can scream to her heart’s content, so no one else is disturbed,” I said.

“You have a grand-daughter?” John asked, surprised.

“Yes, she is nearly four months old now,” I said. “Why?”

“You don’t seem old enough!” he said, and I blushed.

“My daughter is twenty-five, so I was twenty-three when we had her. My sons are a little younger. So work it out,” I said, smiling.

“Then you look mighty good for your age. I put you at under forty,” he said.

“Keep going, I like you very much,” I joked, and he blushed deeply under his tan.

“So these cottages are where the farm hands lived?” Edward asked.

“Probably, here and in the village,” I said, “Why?”

Edward explained their strange quest, so it seems very likely that Henry James Collingwood actually lived in my house, or part of it, at one time!
 
 
“Well, I’ll be blowed,” Edward said.

“Not by me,” I muttered, but to my embarrassment John heard me. He grinned and I blushed again.

“Would you mind if we took some photographs?” Edward asked.

“Be my guest,” I said, and he must have taken a roll of film on the house, the garden, me and John, John, me, himself by John, John and him, by me. I wished I had shares in Kodak.

He went off to take pictures of the other parts of the old farm. John made no move to follow him. I gestured to another chair, so he sat.

“Would you like that drink now?” I asked.

“Don’t go to any trouble on my account,” he said. He grinned when I rolled my eyes at him.

“I am going to have a drink, will you join me?” I said.

He grinned again and, oh, he had such a nice smile.

“Sure, that would be nice.”

“What would you like?”

“What are you having?”

“I was going to have a mug of tea, but I have cold drinks, and I think my sons may have left some beer.”

“No beer, I had some for lunch, so I’m still working that off. I have never had real English tea, may I try that?”

“Of course, if you don’t mind a mug. I hate the little cups, you don’t get enough,” I said, going into the kitchen.

He followed me in, but his huge frame filled my small kitchen. His presence made me feel strangely safe.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“Will your brother want anything?”

“Give him a coffee, as he’s addicted to the stuff - black and very sweet. I swear he will have a cardiac arrest soon,” John said.

I boiled the kettle, but was conscious that he was watching me.

I looked at him, so he dropped his gaze.

“Have you any children?” I asked.

“Two girls, Jenny is twenty-two, and Annie is twenty. Jenny is in law school, and Annie is going to be a doctor. How about you, you mentioned your daughter, what about your sons?” he asked.

“Stephen is twenty-three, he is a Lieutenant in the Royal Marines, while Jonathon is at Oxford studying engineering,” I said, and made the tea. “What do you do?” I asked.

“I am the Chief of Police in a small town called Midhurst, in Arizona.”

“Gosh, how exciting. Can they spare you?”

“Sure. This is the first vacation I have taken since Sally died.”

“God, it is so hard. Every day is such a struggle, don’t you find that?” I said.

Once again, I could see his eyes mirror the pain I felt, and he nodded.

“I don’t think the pain ever goes away, I guess you just learn to live with it,” he said.

“I miss not being able to share the little things. Amy was born just after….” I choked, unable to continue. I had not shared this much with anyone before.

A warm strong hand reached out and held my forearm.

“I know. You don’t have to tell me. I know,” he said, and I looked into those grey eyes. Through my tears, I saw his tears. I’m not sure how it happened, but we wept together. Before I knew it, he wrapped his arms around my waist, drawing me close. I placed my arms around his neck and we sobbed silently together.
 
 
After a while, I managed to stop, but he kept going. I had cried many times, but I sensed that he had never been able to cry for her before. I sensed this was probably the first time. So, I just held him in my arms and let him cry. I was in bare feet, so he was about a clear foot taller than I was, yet his head was nestled on my shoulder, as his tears rolled down my bare arms, making my dress damp.

He smelled of sandalwood and his muscles beneath his shirt were very firm and well defined. He was a big and powerful man, yet was crying in my arms like a baby.

“It’s okay,” I said and stroked his hair. “You need to cry, she needs you to cry.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, muffled against my shoulder.

“Shhh. It really is okay. I understand,” I said, as his tears just kept on coming. His large frame was wracked with heaving sobs, yet even so, I sensed he was trying to control himself. But the grief and the pain were just too great, but it needed to come out, whatever he felt.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he came to a stop, breaking away from me, blowing his nose on a large white handkerchief.

“I am really sorry, Dee, I don’t know what came over me,” he said, embarrassed. I reached out my hand and touched him on the arm.

“You’ve never cried for her before, have you?” I asked.

He shook his head, unable to speak.

“Then I know what came over you.”

He looked at me, frowning. I squeezed his arm.

“You have always been surrounded by people you know, and those who know you. You are a Police Chief, so you represent strength and power, so you have to be seen as in control at all costs. Or at least that is what your subconscious thinks. Your daughters looked to you for support, as did everyone else, so at last you are with someone who knows your pain, but doesn’t know you. In stands to reason, I have no preconceptions about you, you don’t have to prove anything to me, so you feel free to release all the stress and pain with me,” I said.

I handed him the tray with three mugs on it.

“Take this out, I have to go to and repair my make up, my mascara has run dreadfully. I must look a real sight,” I said.

He held onto my hand. “No. You look beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so much,” he said, as my heart gave a lurch.

I smiled and squeezed his hand in return.

“It is perfectly all right. It’s fine. How do you feel?” I asked.

He frowned and then smiled. “I feel okay, it is almost like a bit of my darkness has gone,” he said.

“Good, then you need to cry more often. I am continually crying, and it really does help,” I said, going up to my bedroom to fix my mascara. I sat at my dressing table, watching as my hand shook with the little mascara brush. What was happening to me?

I had a funny butterfly feeling in my tummy, and I felt sort of excited. I wondered if big John was having an effect on me. I smiled at my reflection. I examined myself, critically, but could only see Dee, the woman. David was gone.
 
 
Chapter 4
 
 
John
 
With my emotions all in a whirl, I took the tray out to the patio table, and Ed appeared.

“That was amazing,” he said.

“Yeah? What was?”

“I met this old guy standing by a wall, just down the road. He says that there is an old woman in the village called Eileen Collingwood. I guess she could be a relative,” he said.

“You don’t say. You’d better go see her. Oh, there is a coffee here for you,” I said, handing him the mug.

He sat down and rambled on about the conversation he had with the old guy. I didn’t listen. My mind was still whirling over what had just happened in Dee’s kitchen. I felt so embarrassed, but she made it seem so right. Just as I was trying to work out what I felt, she came out into the sunshine again, carrying a cake on a plate.

She had repaired her make up and although she didn’t wear very much, she looked stunningly attractive to me. She had crystal-clear blue eyes, which were what Sally used to call ‘smiley eyes’. She gave me a big warm smile and sat down, picking up her mug.

“If you want sugar, John, there is some on the tray,” she said.

“No, I take it without. Thanks,” I said.

“Help yourself to some cake, I made it yesterday, as I had some friends over,” she said.

She had cut a few slices, so I took one. I wasn’t into cake, but I wanted to be polite.

It was really light, with fresh strawberries and real fresh cream in it. It tasted wonderful.

“I put some fresh Dorset clotted cream into it. I hope you like it.”

Ed took a second slice and she smiled at me. She had a lovely smile. I really did feel so much better.

Ed asked her whether she knew anyone called Collingwood.

“No, but then I haven’t been here that long. You could check the phone book, or even the Parish records at the church. If it is a village family, then all the births, baptisms, marriages and deaths are recorded there.”

Ed stood up.

“Right, come on Big Jay, let’s get to the church,” he said.

“Hey, Ed, just chill a little. We’re here for three weeks, so we don’t have to do everything on the first day. Besides we have to find somewhere to stay tonight,” I said. This passion he had was not really shared, so I was able to stand back a bit.

“Have you nowhere to stay?” Dee asked. Part of me willed her to offer us a room, but part of me was afraid of what might happen if she did.

“Not yet, the pub is full and all the B&Bs are full, but we may find something in Corfe or Wareham,” Ed said.

“Look, I have some rooms. If you need a bed, then you could stay here. I won’t charge you, as I could do with the company,” she said, looking straight at me.

“Are you sure? That would be really great. We could say that we stayed in the place old Henry came from,” said my brother.

“Dee, you don’t have to do this. We don’t want to put you to any trouble,” I said, but my heart seemed strangely excited.

She stared straight into my eyes and smiled.

“It’s no trouble, I promise. I want you,” she paused, “to stay!”

I responded to her smile, returning it. Her eyes almost mesmerised me, so I forced myself to look away, taking another mouthful of tea.

“Thanks, it’s very good of you,” I said.

“Hey. I’ll go get the car. Is it okay to park it on your drive, Dee?” Ed asked.

“Yes, that’s fine, just keep to the left so I can get my car out,” she said, looking at me. She dropped her gaze and smiled. I felt like a teenager again.

Ed finished his coffee and went off to get the car.

“Do you like the tea?” she asked me.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m not used to it.”

She laughed. It was a delightful sound. I guess she hadn’t laughed much, rather like me, I suppose.

“I used to hate the stuff, but I find it quite refreshing now,” she said.

We sat for a moment, just enjoying the surroundings. The birds were calling and the breeze rustled through the trees. It was so peaceful here.

“What made you come down here to live?” I asked.

“We used to live nearer London. We needed to be close for work reasons. We ran our own catering business, but when I became alone, I decided it was too painful to stay in the home we shared for twenty-five years. The children have all grown up and have left, so I wanted to make a complete break. I sold up and came down here, as we always loved Dorset.”

“Twenty-five years. We’d been married for twenty-six,” I said, and she gave me a sad smile.

“It is the loneliness I hate most. Things happen in my life that I would so like to share. But I can’t,” she said, and I thought for a moment we would both start again. She changed the subject abruptly.

“So, you are here for three weeks?”

“Yeah, Ed wants to trace our ancestor and then go to Wales to stay with this buddy of his. They were in the Air Force together, but this guy married a girl over here and stayed. They run a pub somewhere. I don’t even know where they are,” I said.

“Are you going to Wales with him?”

“I guess, unless something else happens,” I said, not really knowing why I said that.

She smiled at me. Suddenly, I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I couldn’t. Sally’s memory was still so strong.

“I love the garden in the afternoon. The sun comes in, and it is just divine,” she said, putting her head back and closing her eyes.

She had a lovely slender neck. Her golden hoop earrings caught the sun, while her silvery blonde hair reflected the sunshine. She had shapely legs, and her breasts were firm and round as they pressed against the thin fabric of her dress as she leaned back in the sun.

I wasn’t really an expert, but she had the figure and grace of a much younger woman. She also seemed to give me an impression of hidden strength. This wasn’t a prissy, middle-aged woman who’d faint at the first sign of blood. She had strength that reflected from her eyes; eyes that told me of hurts and trials that she had suffered and over which she had triumphed. Dee looked like a delicate English rose, but I sensed that she had a very strong stalk and sharp thorns.
 
 
I felt the stirrings of sexual attraction and arousal for the first time since Sally died. It made me feel very uncomfortable, as I had no idea how to deal with this.

She still wore a wedding ring, and seeing it made me feel mine. I rolled it around my finger, drawing strength from its familiarity, a gesture I had seen her do. We shared so much pain, so it was so nice not having to explain.

She opened her eyes and caught me looking at her. She simply smiled and brushed some hair back. She was so graceful and cultured that I immediately knew that Sally and she would have got on well.

Unable to deal with the feelings I was experiencing, I picked up the tray and carried it back to the kitchen. I put it on the worktop and started to come out again when I noticed riding boots and a safety helmet by the back door. I went out and asked, “Who’s the rider?”

“Me. I ride most mornings. I have a wealthy widow-friend with stables. She’s away at the moment, so she’s asked me to exercise her horses. Do you ride?”

“Do bears shit in the woods?” I asked, with a grin, and then regretted it. I hadn’t meant to be so coarse. But she grinned mischievously.

“I don’t know, do they? We don’t have any bears in England,” she said.

I laughed. “We, no, I have a small ranch, we raise horses. I ride whenever I can,” I said.

“Then you can both join me, I go out at about seven,” she said.

“You won’t get my brother near a horse, but I’d love to. I guess you have what we call the English saddle over here?”

“Yes, sorry, we don’t have your heavy cowboy style,” she said, with that smile of hers.

Ed arrived with the car, parking it when she had asked him to. I went and collected my bag. It was so strange, for even leaving her for a few moments made me want to go back to her.

What was happening to me?
 
 
I almost felt relief when I was back in her company. I felt very confused, but somehow eager to see where this would lead.

She led us into the house, where I saw the beautiful antique furniture and tasteful décor. She certainly had real good taste. Sally would have approved! We followed her upstairs, where she pointed to various doors.

“That’s my room. That’s the guest bathroom, and John you have this room, Edward, you take that one there. There are towels in your rooms, I have my own bathroom, so don’t worry about hogging the shower. There is plenty of hot water, so if you want a bath or shower, just have one. I expect as you have been travelling so far, you may like one now. I am off to the shops, I have to get some supper,” she said.

Ed rubbed his hands together.

“Oh, a shower, I could do with one, how about you Big Jay?” he asked.

“You go ahead,” I said, taking my bag into my room. It was a pleasant, airy room. It had a large double bed in it, and the room colour was predominantly pale green, with red roses in the curtains and counterpane. It was cool and smelled fresh, like her. I suddenly remembered the smell of her hair as we wept together - it was lavender. Sally had loved lavender water.

“Hey Sal, are you trying to tell me something?” I said aloud.

I went downstairs and found her putting some shoes on.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful room. Thanks, you’ve been so kind.”

“Well, I’m off, I won’t be long, but I need to stock up. I need to get some stuff if I have guests.”

“Let me come and help carry,” I said.

“There is no need, I am quite strong,” she said, smiling again.

“It is the least I could do.”

“Fine, I’d love the company,” she said.

I told Ed what I was doing, and walked out onto the gravel drive. She opened the garage and drove a silver Mercedes sports car out into the afternoon sun. She pressed a button and the top came down.

“Jump in,” she said, so I slid into the passenger seat.

She drove far faster than I felt comfortable, but she drove well. I kept seeing Sally drive her convertible; they even drove the same way.
 
 
We arrived at a town called Swanage, where she parked the car in a parking lot next to a supermarket. We went into the supermarket and she pushed a cart, only she called it a trolley. I found it easy to talk to her, as we chatted away about everything and nothing. She filled the trolley with goods as we went.

“Is there anything you two don’t like?” she asked.

“I guess, but I wouldn’t worry. I’ve never been to Europe before, so it’s all new to me! I’m a rather dull guy. I like steak and Mexican food. I haven’t been very adventurous,” I admitted.

“How about your brother?”

“I don’t know. He never liked nuts, but I guess he’s okay now.”

She smiled, as we walked through the liquor section.

“What do you guys like to drink? There is a little beer, but I will have to get some more. The boys always drink it, so it won’t be wasted.”

“I know Ed likes his Miller Lite, I really don’t care,” I said.

She pointed to a case of Miller.

“Then you can put that in the trolley,” she said, so I did.
 
 
We went to the checkout, where she paid by credit card. I saw the name on the card, Deborah J. Cartwright. Then I did a silly thing, as I immediately worked out that if she married me, she would have the came initials. The stranger thing was that I felt Sally smiling at me.

We loaded the trunk of the car and then, instead of going home, she set off into the town, on foot.

“I must go to the butcher,” she said.

“There was meat in the market,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but I never get meat there, the butcher has much better meat.”

I liked the small shops, so we talked about the differences between here and Arizona.

“I’d love to see it, one day,” she said.

“Well, anytime, you can come and stay,” I said, and meant it. I found that I really wanted her to see the ranch.
 
 
We went into the butcher’s shop, where a large man with a blue and white striped apron greeted her.

“Missus Cartwright. How are you today?”

“I’m well, thanks George. How’s your wife’s ankle?”

“Much better, she can weight bear on it now, so she is getting back to normal,” he said, glancing at me with mild curiosity.

“Right, I need enough to feed two large American friends. George, this is John Collingwood from Arizona, he and his brother are staying with me for a few days as they trace their family roots,” she said.

“Really? Well, all the best, I hope you’re successful, sir. What can I get you?”

Dee then seemed to spend a fortune on cuts of meat that I didn’t recognise. I carried the bags back to the car, and they sure were heavy.
 
 
We drove back, not quite so fast. It was almost as if she was trying to stretch out the time we were together. I had no problem with that. I watched her as she drove.

Her hair was blowing in the slipstream, so she kept brushing it out of her face. Her gestures were so similar to Sally’s that they pained me a little. She had on some sunglasses, so I thought she looked like a movie star. She pointed out items of interest as we passed them, and then I saw the castle again.

“The castle was destroyed during the civil war. That is the English civil war. It was one of the last bastions of the Royalists in this area, and the Parliament soldiers took it, destroying it. The end of the war was not long coming after that,” she told me.

“The civil war, huh? That wasn’t that long ago, was it?”

“Let’s see, there is belief it may have been a Roman defensive site, but the castle we see the ruins of today was a rebuild in the 11th century of what was a wood castle back into the 9th century. The village and its famous castle are built mainly from the local Purbeck stone which is probably the finest limestone available for building and polishing in England, and is used throughout the world.

“In the 13th century King John went to great lengths improving his accommodation and the defences. He built a fine hall and chapel together with domestic buildings.”

“King John, is that the one who mixed with Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham?”

“So Hollywood would have us believe. Actually King John is mainly remembered for taking the first steps in relinquishing total power and giving a degree of power to lesser mortals. Have you heard of the Manga Carta?”

“Sure, but I guess I don’t know what it was,” I admitted.

“It was a document, in a way, not unlike the declaration of independence, whereby the barons and other powerful nobles backed the king into a corner and made him agree to what became the first tentative steps to democracy. Mind you, equal votes and power to the masses was a long time coming after that.”

“I can see I’ve some reading to do. What about the castle?”

Dee looked confused for a moment.

“The castle? Oh, the castle. Well, Henry III constructed additional walls, towers and gatehouses. Monarchs had come and gone until 1572 when Queen Elizabeth I sold it to Sir Christopher Hatton, her dancing master and some suppose a suitor.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked.

She grinned, looking much younger for a moment.

“I thought you might ask me, so I read it on the website,” she said.

I was impressed, as she could have told me she was an amateur historian and had an interest, but she displayed a rare trait, simple honesty. I respect that more than any other quality in a person.

“Anyway, in 1635 the Castle was sold to Sir John Bankes, the then Lord Chief Justice, more as a holiday home rather than as a first home. By 1643 the Parliamentarians occupied most of Dorset, the castle then survived a six-week siege. Sir John Bankes died in 1644 and the castle endured a number of half-baked blockades. Later in 1645 a second siege was started by Colonel Bingham, Governor of Poole, and courtesy of an insider the Roundheads took over in February 1646.

“The Castle was systematically destroyed by the Parliamentary forces, but the fact that some remains is surely testimony to strength of construction. Ownership remained with the Bankes Family until 1982 when it was bequeathed to the National Trust,” she said.

“Can people get to see the ruins?”

“Oh yes, it’s still maintained by the National Trust, so anyone can go and have a look. Why are you interested?”

“Yeah, I’d love to have a look sometime. I must confess to be more interested in that sort of thing than the old family tree.”

She laughed. “So why did you come?”

“I don’t really know. I just had to get away, and Ed paid for the tickets,” I admitted.

“Are you and your brother close?”

“Not especially. We lead very different lives. He is divorced and is very materialistic. I am more down to earth and have more basic ideals. But he’s family, and I believe that family should stick together. You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family, so if you get along, so much the better.”

“That’s true. I am blessed with a wonderful family,” she said.

“Are your folks still alive?”

“My parents? No, my Dad died about ten years ago, while my mother died four years ago. How about yours?”

“Mom is still alive. She lives near my sister, Pamela, at a place called Flagstaff. It is the town nearest the Grand Canyon. But old Mom, is not that well now. She will be eighty-four next birthday,” I said.
 
 
She pulled into the drive and stopped the car.

We unloaded the groceries and carried them into the kitchen. Ed was watching TV in the drawing room.

“Hey Dee, I think your remote is busted, I can only get five channels,” he said.

“That’s because we only have five channels,” she said, grinning.

“Five? Last time I was here the people I visited had more than that,” Ed said.

“They probably had satellite or cable. I don’t watch that much TV, as it is mostly total bollocks,” she said.

“Bollocks?” I asked, frowning, and she laughed.

“I’m sorry. Bollocks is a slang word. It this context it means rubbish, but bollocks is the same as balls or testicles,” she said.

“So you reckon your TV shows are total balls?” I asked.

“Yup,” she said.

“Well at last!” I said.

“What?” she asked.

“John loathes TV with a passion, they only had one because of the kids, he rarely watches it,” Ed said.

“I can’t remember the last time I watched TV,” I said.

“No, I can’t either. I sometimes watch the evening news, but perhaps once or twice a week. I get all the news I want off the internet or from a paper,” Dee said.
 
 
The time was half past five. I was feeling quite tired, so I sat with Dee and Ed on the patio. I felt more relaxed than I had for a couple of years. So much so that I must have dozed off.

I woke up when Dee handed me a glass of ice-cold beer.

“Here, have this. It will give you an appetite.”

I looked at Ed, and saw he had already nearly finished his.

“You’ve been snoring, Big Jay,” he said with a smirk.

I took the glass and thanked Dee. It was real cold and went down smoothly.

Dee went into the house, as I sat with Ed in the garden. He was grinning.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I just can’t believe our luck. I mean, here we are, actually staying in the same house as old Henry lived in, all those years ago. It’s uncanny!”

“He might not have done, and besides, the house is very different now,” I said.

“Yeah, I know that. But I still think it is all a bit cool. And that Dee, she’s a real nice lady,” he said.

“Yes, that’s a fact,” I said and drank my beer. I thought she was more than that, but kept quiet.

“So what did you guys talk about?”

“Death, grief and lots of little things. She’s asked me to go horse riding with her tomorrow,” I said.

“That’s great. I was going to check out the church. You coming?”

“No, you go ahead, it’s your project. When are you off to Wales?” I asked.

“What’s this, do I detect a hint of something like reluctance to join me in Wales? Are you staying here with the lady?” Ed asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. She hasn’t asked me, but I like it here. I may just hang around for a while,” I said.

“No problem. I can go when I like. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Wales?”

“He’s your buddy, Ed. Besides, I have made a new friend here, and I feel it might go a little deeper.”

“You falling for Dee, John?”

I smiled, feeling conflicting emotions - some guilt, a little embarrassment, but mainly a tingle of excitement at what the future could hold in store.

“Hell, I don’t know,” I said, and then thought about it. Ed was my brother and knew me better than most. I liked Dee, I enjoyed her company, I liked her home, I found her attractive and fun to be with. As I thought of her, I found myself smiling.

“Maybe, Ed, maybe. She makes me smile. I haven’t smiled much recently. We get along real well. We’ve got a lot in common and I feel that Sally would have liked her,” I said.

“I’m glad, but Pam will be pissed though.”

“Why?”

“She was planning to introduce you to one of her divorced friends, Mary Ellen someone, a rich bitch with a penchant for horses. Pam thought you two would hit it off.”

“I am quite capable of looking after myself,” I said, getting annoyed with Pam now.

“So I noticed,” Ed said, as Dee came out with two more beers.
 
 

*          *          *
 
End of Part 2
 
 
To Be Continued...